


just a little bit of time, just to make you feel alright

by aislinngun



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 07:38:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6365176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aislinngun/pseuds/aislinngun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam is tired after a long day of work. Ronan tries to help, or at least distract him with more pleasant things. Succesfully.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just a little bit of time, just to make you feel alright

**Author's Note:**

> I had probably listened to [Just A Little Bit by Kids 88](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1cnifqa9LEw) one time too much. I had probably one stressful week too much.

His shirt was the slightest bit rumpled and his collar open, one unfastened button blinking sadly in the lamp light. On always pristinely dressed Adam, it was a look of utter dishevelment, and it got Ronan worried.

It was already almost over half of the year since when Adam started to work for the company. He was only getting better and better, according to his bosses, and Ronan was nothing if not proud of his hard won success. He was so happy for every clever machination born in Adam’s brilliant mind that got him up the promotion ladder, for every self–satisfied smile on Adam’s face when he was telling some story from work, for every moment when he seemed to be finally fulfilled by his long dreamed future that was happening to him right now. Ronan couldn’t be happier that he got to observe and be the part of Adam’s future. And what a part, who would’ve thought. (Apparently, Adam did. So he made that happen, as everything Adam ever set his mind on.)  
Today, however, Adam looked worn out. _That was bound to happen,_ thought Ronan, _strange it took so long._

Adam came home two hours later than usually, looking like something that cat dragged in. Abandoning his shoes in the hallway, he also got rid of his coat and disposed his socks to the laundry basket in the bathroom. Next, he wiggled his toes on the cold floor tiles and walked to the study, where Ronan was sitting at the table. Then, he leaned heavily on the door-jamb and proceeded to continue looking miserably. 

Ronan’s heart swelled with an overbearing feeling that could be channelled into one of the two following sentences: _Dear Lord, this fucking idiot_ , and _Goodness gracious, how much I love this complete knobhead is unthinkable_. It was possible that the second one was more elaborate thus more understandable to other people, but the first one expressed Ronan’s emotions better. Also, there were thankfully no other people in his head, so the first one it was.

Tired was probably not the most accurate word Ronan could use to describe his prodigal boyfriend ― he looked _exhausted_ , bag under his eyes, skin pale and grey, shoulders tense and hunched. Ronan’s heart hurt for this stupid, ambitious, wonderful man who did probably thrice as much as everyone else. He wanted to hug him or maybe swipe him repetitively with a newspaper. 

He was very much used to that feeling through the years, so no newspaper. The situation was still much better than in college. Not even to mention sweet, sweet times of Aglionby, thank Lord they passed away. So, hugging it was. 

Ronan got up from his music sheets, which were crossed many times and doodled on margins, the third draft of what he was trying to compose. This particular piece was rather stubborn and refusing to be caught in the notes. He put away the shawm, securing it with the pillow so it wouldn’t fall on the floor. Just before Adam came, Ronan was in the middle of torturing the instrument with two passages that appeared to be a hair breadth from sounding good. 

As soon as he noticed crumpled state of Adam’s persona, he crossed the room in few quick steps and opened his arms. Adam fell in them almost instantly, sagging in Ronan’s embrace. He smelled like badly air–conditioned room and sweat mixed with cologne. Ronan started to massaging Adam’s back with long, strong moves along his spine and then making small, circular strokes to loose up the tense muscles. Adam became even more boneless, tucking his head in the crook of Ronan’s neck, giving him a quick peck under the jaw. He murmured something unintelligibly, making Ronan feel ticklish vibration of the muffled words. 

“Whatever you tried to say,” he answered fondly, tightening his right arm on Adam’s waist and combing through his hair with his other hand. Adam had to be really tired, because he didn’t even try to repeat nor explain what he was murmuring. That wasn’t a very good sign, as Adam was usually saying things for them to be heard, not really an idle talker. Ronan’s chest tightened with sympathy again. Well, the honeymoon with the work couldn’t last forever, and it was close to a miracle that Adam managed to abstain from overworking for so long. 

Ronan weighted the pros and cons of going to the kitchen to make Adam some tea. Pros were that tea was a good remedy for almost everything, if not for it’s healing properties then for the steadying ritual of brewing. Cons were that he would have to let Adam out of his arms. 

Cons just drastically overweighted the pros. 

Adam snuggled tighter, pressing his whole body against Ronan’s. His soft hair tickled Ronan’s cheek and ear. Yes, definitely outweighed.  
“Was it that bad?” Ronan asked in a low voice, worry creeping into his tone. What happened? Who’s fault if was? How many miles should Ronan drive to kick their asses personally for leaving Adam looking like he’s been working fifteen hours in a row? 

Adam lifted his head only so high he could be understood, “Not really. Just, hard day, you know.” He propped his chin up, digging into the soft flesh of Ronan’s trapezius muscle. “Annoyin’ people. Indecisive people. Straight up stupid people. In the exact moments they really shouldn’t.” He mumbled. He had worked through flattening his Henrietta accent out of shame, but the years of good college did the job for him anyway and gave him fancy accent he was quite automatically using in public. But the more home he felt, the more pronounced his Henrietta drawl was. The more tired, too. Now he was home _and_ tired. 

“Wanna talk about it?” murmured Ronan, the thumb of his right hand stroking gently the spot under his ribs, his other hand resting now on Adam’s nape, warm and easing the tension of the strained muscles. Adam felt so completely, utterly embraced, so welcome and safe, when held like that. 

“Do I ever?” he said, omitting the fact that, yes, sometimes he did, and that was an achievement they both worked on for years, and were quietly proud how much it improved things between them. Still, if one of them said something like this, it was a clear sign that the deal was either entirely unimportant, or very serious. 

Ronan simply kissed his hair as an answer, as if knowing it was only and so much as fatigue bothering Adam. “So, wanna do something fun?” Ronan loosened up his hold a bit, leaning back and making Adam rise from his comfortable position to look in his face. 

“What kind of fun?” Adam squinted at him, knowing all too well the wide range of what Ronan considered as ‘fun’. Fun could be eating an entire bucket of ice cream while watching the sunset at the creek, but it could also be going to a concert where preferable form of dance was a mosh pit. Sometimes Adam was up to both, but some days he would seriously like to just keep things on the calm side. 

Ronan took his warm hands off Adam’s back, which made Adam instantly miss them. He hooked up his thumbs in Adam’s belt loops though, so Adam wasn’t so disconsolate. Ronan pressed their hips together, and, _oh, that kind of fun_. Adam put his hands on Ronan’s arms, thinking he will never be bored with looking at the expanse of pale skin covering exquisitely nice muscles and having the ever–standing permission to touch. 

“I could get you out of this clothes,” Ronan said ― _I wouldn’t be opposed,_ Adam thought ― “and put into something nicer,” ― _Wait, what?_ ― “and we could go to a club,” he smiled like a charming shark. Not giving Adam time to think, he began to make his way with little kisses, starting from the place behind Adam’s ear and going down towards the collarbone. Adam felt a surge of pleasant warmth and smiled blissfully. He tilted his neck, giving Ronan better access. What a convincing strategy. Still, Adam would rather stay in and continue _this_. 

“Maybe not now?” he said, moving his hands on Ronan’s head, the dark fuzz so soft under his fingers. He remembered how surprised he was when he petted Ronan’s head for the first time – he expected nonsensically something coarse, harsh, like Ronan’s barbs and wires were supposed to be somehow transplanted from his personality to his body. It was so stupid. Not only for the sheer absurdity, but for how unused to seeing the softer side of Ronan he was back then. Now he was melting under his touch, so soft and caring, that he couldn’t almost stand it. And to think that when he was entering home, he thought the only thing he would be up to tonight was a shower and falling face flat on their bed. Ronan’s touch was waking him up, making today’s grim reality of work seem like a bad dream instead. 

Ronan took off Adam’s tie, silk slipping between his fingers with a quiet swish, falling off on a floor like a green flare. He unfastened all the buttons of Adam’s shirt, tugging its tails out of the slacks. So, he clearly didn’t mean them to go out right now. Or, did he...? Adam’s train of thought was lost when Ronan’s soft lips closed around his nipple. Light suck, flick of tongue, his own throaty moan in response - his world narrowed for a second to those things. 

“Maybe”, Ronan said, breaking away from the task and coming up. “Or maybe we could go, and I could pretend to be a stranger, and then blow you in the back alley” he murmured, his lips so close to the vulnerable skin of Adam’s neck that every word was an almost–kiss. His right hand slipped under Adam’s shirt, hot and grounding. His left squeezed low on his ass, making him take a sharp breath. 

“Ungh― Unhygienic,” Adam stuttered. Sometimes he forgot how fast could Ronan ignite him with just a few words. “You hate back alleys. Those are dirty, dirty places.” He put his hands on the back of Ronan’s head, gently dragging his blunt fingernails up and down the neck with one hand, gently stroking the place behind the ear with his thumb of the other. Ronan made a low noise and tucked his head in the crook of Adam’s collarbone. 

“Dirty,” Adam felt Ronan’s smirk on his skin, mouth taut with the confidence and amusement, “dirty indeed, my dear doctor Freud”. The smirk disappeared, leaving a wet sensation of a open–mouthed kiss and then a light breeze of Ronan’s breath. Adam shivered. 

“Don’t bring Freudian slips into this. It has nothing to do with―” 

“A slip, you say?” Ronan didn’t let him end the sentence. “Everything dirty and slippery, mister Parrish, it has nothing to do with Freud.” Ronan was getting less coherent too, dropping little kisses down Adam’s chest, even as he pretended to keep his cool. But Adam had had enough, so he guided Ronan’s head up and just kissed him with all he had. The kiss was, in fact, as dirty and slippery as he could muster, so any remains of wit Ronan had, left him instantly. To be completely honest, that kiss left Adam’s brain blank too. 

Somewhere between one and another kiss that followed through, Adam had lost his shirt, then got his belt unbuckled and his fly undone by Ronan’s impatient hands. 

Amazing hands they were. Hands of an artist, of a musician, of an occasional farmer, of a dreamer. Slightly more angular than Adam’s and somewhat paler, with the thumbs set low and fingers long and fleet, so quick and nimble as if undressing Adam was a saltarello to play. And Ronan could play Adam exactly as he wished. Just like now, he had Adam half naked and panting, himself fully clothed and in control. Adam was glad to let him take this, after a long day of commandeering others, he welcomed being steered with relief. And it wasn’t mindless, stern, or incompetent steering he experienced today ― it was purposeful, gentle, and entirely about his pleasure. 

He sighed when Ronan cupped him through his briefs and gave him a rough stroke. He leaned onto him, biting Ronan’s neck and sucking into it, eliciting a pent-up gasp. It was one of Ronan's sensitive spots Adam knew about, and liked to use that knowledge quite generously. He smiled with satisfaction, and palmed Ronan through his trousers, wanting to hear that low sound Ronan made in the back of his throat. 

Ronan nibbled softly on his earlobe in retaliation and pulled the slacks and pants slightly down, his hand curling around Adam’s cock. He was already dripping when Ronan thumbed at his slit and stroked him, making him inhale sharply and sag in his arms. Ronan was aiming straight for the result, pulling all the tricks and practised moves he had learned through the years, all those he knew make Adam come in no time. 

Adam clutched tightly onto him, one hand on Ronan’s ass and the other on his chest, rubbing his nipple through the cotton shirt. He was heaving into the crook of Ronan’s neck, mouthing at the tattooed skin -- all nerves aflame, when one efficient hand was tugging at him, fondling his balls and wrapping around his shaft again, twisting lightly at the end of every smooth slide, making him writhe and thrust into Ronan’s grip. His other hand was on Adam’s hip, a grounding point holding him through his climax. He was not far behind. Adam’s hand joined his, a few firm moves led him to his peak. 

They leaned on each other, their breaths evening slowly. They exchanged a few kisses, chastely and unhurriedly, lips gliding smoothly and things calming down. 

“Still wanna go to that club?” Adam mumbled into Ronan’s mouth half-seriously, because years of being together taught him, that the last thing Ronan was willing to do right after orgasm, was to go anywhere. 

“Mhm, maybe not today though,” Ronan pulled off a bit to answer, his forehead still touching Adam’s. “Now maybe shower, huh?” He said, not really looking like he was going to let Adam out. Adam was not complaining. 

“Are we saving water?” Adam asked, disentangling himself ruefully. Still, he’d rather cuddle clean, preferably in bed. 

“Of course, we have to live up to that eco standard, or else maggot will have our asses.” Ronan begrudgingly let him go, understanding the call of higher necessity. Besides, it wasn't like they were parting ways. 

“And that would hurt,” Adam turned around and led the way, forgetting all about his discarded clothes, which meant he must’ve been still unfocused. No wonder, with combined forces of bliss and exhaustion. 

“And that would hurt,” said Ronan agreeably, following Adam to the bathroom, scooping up the shirt an the tie on the way to put it to the laundry basket. He didn’t have any nefarious plans for the shower, but he wanted to take care of his workaholic of a boyfriend some more, even though he seemed now a little less dead on his feet. 

Ronan doubted there will ever be a day when he won’t have to remind Adam to not overdo, or to not use work as an excuse to ignore his problems. But what he was fiercely sure of, was that through all these days he will be there to help him pick up the pieces he may lose on his way -- or at least to distract him, just like today. That they will be there for each other. Ronans were faithful creatures like that. And ― Ronan had a feeling ― Adams too. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to know how does shawm or saltarello sound, here's the perfect solution: [Saltarello](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5XZihrNu3io) played on shawm by David Munrow. That I had probably listened a one time too much as well.  
> Also, please don't leave your shawms and other instruments unattended on a couch, even secured with a pillow.  
> Another thing - I am very much not native, so if you noticed any mishaps, please let me know! I will be eternally grateful.  
> Talk to me on [tumblr](http://pickyperkypenguin.tumblr.com)!


End file.
